


Helden (Heroes)

by Cowfolkqueer



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1970's East Berlin, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Human, Gay Rights, HIV/AIDS, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, This is literally an activist story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:01:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28942617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cowfolkqueer/pseuds/Cowfolkqueer
Summary: Up until 1973, there is no gay right's movement in East Berlin. The GDR, however, manages to have a stronger gay culture than it's Western counterpart. That's what brings Alfred F. Jones into the city on a day visa where he happens into Ludwig Beilschmidt. Alfred is oblivious to the dangers of openly discussing any kind of a gay rights movement and Ludwig is stupid enough to help him out. The two are destined to become a dynamic duo within the gay rights movement in East Berlin. To stay in the shadows is to wither; to stay silent is to die.[This story loosely follows the events of the HIB in Germany from 1973-1989]
Relationships: America & Germany (Hetalia)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. We Died and Went to the Gay Bar

**Author's Note:**

> Anything that quotes that are in italics should be assumed to be in German.  
> I've done so much research for this and it's probably not even enough haha. Let me know if you have any questions or encouragements!

_ January 18th, 1973, East Berlin _

A young man, bundled up warmly, tucked his chin into his chest as he walked with purpose through the dimly lit streets of East Berlin. It was January and the clouds were threatening snow that night. But the young man plodded onwards, rubbing his hands together as he turned a corner. While the blond wasn’t dressed the most fashionably, there was something to be said about warmth over fashion--and his almost imposing form cut a striking figure against the harsh, hardly lit streets. With his work-worn boots, his workman’s cap, and his rather muted ensemble he looked straight out of some Western propaganda for drab life beyond the Iron Curtain. 

By the time he reached the bar, Bärenschenke, snow had begun to drift down lazily onto the streets. First snow of the new year, he noted before pushing into the warmth of the bar. The place itself was nestled in a corner between East and West Berlin and it honestly had been a miracle that he had found it. It was one of the few havens he had found for a good, late night out in the city. The bar almost always had a surprising amount of West Berliners in the bar as well. But a majority of the clientele was from the city--and he, himself had become somewhat of a local. 

“ _ Ludwig _ \--,” a voice called out as he was removing his layers.  _ “Ludwig, come  _ here _ , you won’t believe this!”  _

Ludwig looked up with an impassive face, unwrapping his scarf from his neck. The man calling to him was a few years his senior and was in a very tight, plain button down and some well fitted brown slacks. His hair was longer than the average man’s in the East, but it suited him. He was handsome, to say the least. His name was Klaus and he was known for being rather flamboyant but it had always been rather endearing to him.

“I don’t even have a drink in my hand, can it wait?” He called back over the music. He internally winced a second later, realizing he sounded somewhat harsh. 

The words had hardly gotten out of his mouth before Klaus was next to him, pressing what he assumed to be a gin tonic into his hand. Klaus pressed a kiss on Ludwig’s cheek and shook his head at him. Klaus reeked of expensive Western cologne and it made his head somewhat dizzy. 

“ _ Make you wait? Never. _ ” Ludwig’s cheeks flared but he allowed himself to be dragged across the bar to whatever had Klaus so excited. 

“No, no, no, like--I’m telling you this is my first time across the wall. I mean, I’d been told stories and all of that, but I didn’t think it was going to be anything like  _ this _ !” A loud American voice cut through the music of the bar.

The pair had made their way across the bar and they were now standing in front of a young, seemingly American man who was talking animatedly to a few other patrons of the bar in English. The bar itself wasn’t too large--there was space for a dance floor, some places to sit by the bar and on the outskirts of the room, as well as a bathroom that had a few urinals and toilet in it--but this man’s voice somehow seemed to fill the place. Ludwig blinked and leaned over to Klaus.

_ “Does he know this is a gay bar? _ ” He asked softly.

Klaus just laughed. He took a sip of his drink and nodded, sagely. He looked more intently at the man this time and was taken aback by how handsome the American was. He looked straight off a movie set. His hair was rumpled, but it looked as if it had been purposely styled that way. And the way the collar of his shirt popped out of his sweater seemed intentional as well. But what really caught his attention was the jeans that the American was wearing. Levi’s. 

Levi’s were a luxury that very rarely made it over to the East but it was something every young person seemed to desire. It was a sign that one either wanted to rebel against socialism or… Well Ludwig wasn’t sure what it meant besides that. It was a statement to have them on and this kid didn’t seem to think twice about it. As took in the strange spectacle, he finally remembered the drink in his hand. He focused on that for a moment and when he came back to the moment he realized the American was looking at him.

Not just looking at him: talking to him. In English.

“Oh--Sorry, what?” He asked, thickly. He hadn’t spoken English in what felt like a lifetime. He was great at listening to it, but when would he ever use it? 

“I said, ‘why are you just standing there?’” The American had a crowd around him and he was obviously soaking up the attention. Ludwig supposed maybe he just wanted more eyes on him.

And so he sidled up into the fray, a little out of his element. He tuned into the conversation that was going on and realized that the conversation wasn’t all that casual. It seemed that this American was trying to talk about some radical film. The only issue was that he seemingly only spoke broken German and most of the men that were crowded around him didn’t have the greatest command over English. Not that Ludwig did either, but he had had to use it when he was conscripted. He had worked at a checkpoint for about 13 months before he was finally moved to another position. But during that year he had actually had to work on his English. His Russian, however, was decent from school. 

“--there’ll be a screening of it coming out soon. You guys have heard of Praunheim?” The American took another sip of his drink and his eyes caught Ludwig’s again. 

“Wait, who?” Ludwig found himself pulled into the conversation.

“Rosa von Praunheim--he made a film called ‘ _ Nicht der Homosexuelle ist pervers, sondern die Situation in der lebt’ _ \--a bit of a mouthful if you ask me. But you guys, this film! It’s groundbreaking. I never saw anything like this even at home--The guys are just… They’re just allowed to be gay. They’re just…” The man was babbling and all Ludwig could do was watch him. 

He’d never heard of the film but the name alone was thought provoking. But he wasn't going to let himself get carried away. 

“Is it only in the West?” Ludwig asked, shoving his free hand into his pocket.

“No! That’s the whole big deal--It got a whole bunch of awards and it’s playing on ARD. It plays next Friday.” 

Ludwig took another sip of his drink and processed. There was a pro-gay film that would be premiered on East German TV and it only this one American man seemed to know about it. He was talking so openly about it and he seemed to be so inspired by the whole thing. His eyes were practically sparkling as he talked excitedly to the crowd around him. Shaking his head, he glanced around for Klaus. When he finally spotted him he found that he was draped across another local who Klaus was perfectly enamoured with. The only issue was that the man was 10 years Klaus’ senior, was married, and only visited on Friday nights. Other than that it was a match made in heaven.

The American man kept talking to his semi-captive audience and Ludwig took this as a chance to finish his drink and mingle with his scattered acquaintances in the bar. It wasn’t hard to get to know the regulars as there weren’t very many to begin with. The bars were honestly their only form of connection with one another. If you were just looking for sex the bars were the perfect place. However, there’s only so much community to be found between the sweating bodies of a disco tucked in the corner of East Berlin.

He leaned against a wall, thinking. The music wasn’t bad but it was far too early for him to even consider dancing. Klaus would have to ply him with at least four more drinks before he could loosen up enough to move somewhat rhythmically. He watched the dancefloor idly, but most of the people who were in the bar were still drinking and chatting. There wasn’t much to watch. So Ludwig wandered his way over to the bar and coincidentally back towards the American. 

The crowd around him was losing interest it seemed and when Ludwig leaned his forearms onto the bar next to him to flag down the bartender, he once again caught the attention of the blond man. 

“What’re you drinking?” He called over the music and Ludwig shook his head. The American adjusted his glasses in confusion, “Wha--?”

“ _ Try in German _ ,” he gave him a sideways smile and then ordered himself and the other man two shots of vodka. 

“Oh man, I really…” The man began then he shook his head and laughed softly, “ _ Okay, okay, I’ll try. What are you drinking? _ ” He asked, in not too terrible German. 

“ _ Gin tonic _ ” he replied and pushed one of the shots over towards him, “ _ And a shot for your troubles. _ ” 

“ _ What’s your name? _ ” The American asked, picking up the shot and seemingly taking him in for the first time, despite having already had a conversation just a few minutes ago. 

“ _ Ludwig _ ,” he responded then raised the shot to him, “ _ and you? _ ”

“Alfred.”

“ _ To new friends, Alfred, _ ” Ludwig threw back the shot without a blink but Alfred did not seem to have the same tolerance.

Alfred reached for his own drink, cola and some kind of liquor, to chase with. Ludwig was somewhat intrigued by the American, but he felt slightly put off by the boisterous nature that Alfred seemed to exude. But it always took him a while to warm up to strangers, he supposed. Klaus had told him he needed to “lighten up, loosen up” on multiple occasions and maybe this could be his chance to do so? 

“ _ So how did you find our little slice of heaven? _ ” Ludwig asked over his drink.

As it soon became clear, Alfred spoke terrible German. He could make his way around some of the vocabulary, but most of his meaning came from hand gestures and broad movements. It finally got to the point where the two had to switch back into English. Then Ludwig was the one drowning. But he did learn that Alfred was in contact with the West Berlin group of gays who were actively advocating for socialist reform and an extension of gay rights in the public sphere. The idea was to take the private and make it public, thus allowing gay men and women out of the shadows. And while it was a righteous fight, there just wasn’t space for that kind of activity in the East. Ludwig told Alfred as much and the bright young man waved him off, as if his words were an annoying gnat.

“Listen, everybody thinks that! Everybody at home felt that too but look,” Alfred paused to take a sip of his drink, “Everything has changed since the ‘67, you know? Like, people aren’t so fuckin’ uptight about sex anymore. It’s all just sex. So what’s wrong with what we’re doing?”  
Ludwig watched him carefully and looked around. He knew there would be Stasi here and while conversation was occasionally on this topic, Ludwig found himself looking out for the young man. He couldn’t be too much older than 18 and he was American and he probably didn’t know what it was like to be in a surveillance state. Ludwig motioned for him to quiet down and shifted closer towards him.

“I hear what you have said, okay? But simply remember where we are.” He warned, holding Alfred’s gaze sternly. 

If there was anything to be known about Ludwig, it was that he still could pull out that soldier’s demeanor if needed. And it seemed to be enough to spook the kid. Alfred pulled back from him and looked around, nervously. He seemed to finally realize that he had maybe been causing a bit of a scene all night. They fell into silence for a moment before Alfred locked eyes with him again.

“Do you really not think there’s a chance for gays just to… You know? Live a free life? Because man… Just going to bars isn’t really living.” Alfred trailed off and before Ludwig could say anything he continued, “I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love this. This is great, but like once you see that film-- _ Nicht der Homosexuelle ist pervers _ \--I’m telling you, you can see that like there’s a future for us. We’re not just some societal rejects, like, we can be a part of it all.” Alfred was talking to him in a low voice and Ludwig had to wonder how long he’d been wanting to say this.

Maybe it was just the alcohol talking, or maybe something about Alfred’s rousing speech struck a chord with the hushed conversations he’d had over the last few years with Klaus and others. To live in the shadows was to wither. To stay silent was to die. And maybe that was why he decided to ask the American if he had a day-visa or if he was staying the night. Maybe that was what encouraged him to walk him out of the bar and back towards his place while talking quietly about what it was like to be young and gay and alone in East Berlin. Young and gay but for now, not alone. 


	2. Karl-Marx Allee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Ludwig and Alfred make their way to Ludwig's apartment. There, they discuss their lives.

The two men walked briskly through the dimly lit streets. They walked almost shoulder to shoulder but they weren’t speaking much. Snow drifted lazily from the heavy clouds and the two seemed captivated by the deafening silence the snow blanketed the city in. Ludwig had discussed Alfred’s visa and had been made aware that he did indeed have the 72 hour visa instead of the day pass. Which meant that all they needed to do was check Alfred in with the hotel where he had been planning on staying. It was customary that the hotel in question signed off on the little stub of paper that Alfred was expected to keep on his person for the duration of his stay. 

The hotel itself wasn’t far from Checkpoint Charlie which, in turn, wasn’t far from Bärenschenke. Still, the infectious energy of the bar had left Ludwig as soon as he stepped out into the freezing night air. He was always cautious when leaving the bar--not that he expected there to be too many people he associated with during the day. It was simply safer to keep an eye on the shadows around Bärenschenke. You could perhaps say that the clientele at the bar were targeted. But that just meant one had to be vigilant. 

Alfred seemed to have no clue as to the potential dangers that lurked in the shadows as he cut through the silence with a loud whistle. He tilted his head back as he whistled and looked towards the sky, taking in the well lit grey blanket that covered the city. Or so Ludwig assumed. There wasn’t much else to look at. After a solid minute of Ludwig saying nothing and Alfred drawing glances from the few people on the street, Ludwig nudged him with an elbow.

“Let’s not…” Ludwig muttered, quietly.

Alfred lifted an eyebrow at him, not seeming to understand. He stopped whistling though, to Ludwig’s relief. 

It wasn’t long before the pair reached the Grand Hotel. It was a stately establishment and it was somewhat moderately priced. Or so Ludwig had heard. He, for one, could never have afforded to spend a few days in a hotel of any kind. But he didn’t say as much to Alfred. They checked in without much hassle. The hotel staff signed the card and the two were on their way once again, this time heading towards the metro. 

They began talking again as they made their way to the nearest station. It wasn’t an important conversation but it was the beginning of introductions that they had missed while talking about the West German gays and the movement that was stirring. Alfred asked him where he was from, if he had siblings, if he enjoyed living in the GDR. Ludwig responded that he was born and raised in the city, that he had a brother, and that he didn’t mind the city. He said that he found it charming. Ludwig then volleyed off the same questions towards Alfred. As it turned out the man was from none other than the infamous New York City. He had a brother who had moved to Canada who he would sometimes write to. And on top of all of that, Alfred was an architect who had a penchant for abstract expressionism. Not that Ludwig completely understood what that was, but he nodded all the same. 

By the time they reached the metro, they had reached the end of Ludwig’s conversational vocabulary. There wasn’t much more he  _ knew _ how to talk about without being repetitive. So he fell into silence once again. But he did have more questions for Alfred. He understood that sometimes West Berliners would come across the wall to visit and they would bring their friends as tourists, but he wanted to know what drove Alfred all the way from New York to Germany to here; standing beside him now? While he was curious, Ludwig decided to leave the thought be for the moment. The metro was arriving. 

Ludwig took the stairs two at a time to reach the top of the platform before the metro left and Alfred was left scrambling after him, hands buried deep in his pockets as he leapt up the stairs. Ludwig was just about to board the metro when he realized Alfred was staring at the car with some interest.

“Hurry--,” he called, grabbing a hold of his elbow. He pulled him onto the train car right before the door closed and let out a soft scoff. “Have you never seen the metro before?”

Alfred, almost having missed the metro, looked a little harried. He glanced around the interior of the metro before letting out a loud laugh. One that gained him a few glares from the other late night passengers. The fluorescent lights cast the whole car in a greenish-orange light and made Alfred’s angular features even more sharp. Ludwig frowned softly and shot him a concerned look but before he could ask anything, Alfred was talking. 

“This is really what your cars are like? This thing feels like a matchbox. It’s tiny! It’s so rickety too--Do you seriously travel across the city in this? I mean, hell, I know the city got pretty fucked up during the war but like. This shit feels like a coffin. I can’t even imagine it during rush hour!”

Ludwig looked around, blinking sheepishly. He’d had friends from the West use the S-Bahn before but he never thought anything of it. He offered as much on the topic, shrugging his shoulders at Alfred.

“It runs. Gets us to where we must go.” 

Alfred babbled on, his thoughts bouncing from the literal interior design of the metro car to the outside structure, pressing his nose against the glass to get a better look. Ludwig watched him, somewhat bemused. It seemed Alfred  _ was _ an architect beyond just the job title. 

They were on the train for about 10 minutes in total. In that time, Alfred managed to narrate the ride. As they went further into the eastern side of the city, towards Karl-Marx-Allee where Ludwig resided, the American grew increasingly frantic over the bits of buildings he could see. They were able to have a small conversation over Bauhaus architecture but beyond that Alfred was talking to himself. It wasn’t that Ludwig wasn’t interested--he peered out the large windows of the train car and tried to catch whatever it was that Alfred was seeing--he simply didn’t have vocabulary on building structures. 

Alfred did seem to realize this; after about 8 minutes of little engagement from Ludwig he realized that  _ he _ did have words for this in German. And when given the opportunity to understand, Ludwig pressed closer to the glass as Alfred pointed and clumsily narrated what he saw in the Soviet architecture until the train went underground. 

They were so engrossed in their conversation that they nearly missed their stop at Strausberg platz. Ludwig thankfully heard the announcer’s muffled voice at the last moment and caught Alfred by his elbow. The odd couple made their way up out of the underground station platform and entered the “new” area of the city. Despite the fact that the fountains of the plaza were off during the winter, the wide open park area was still beautiful in the snow. The silence the snow brought seemed to make the place seem even larger. 

Alfred came to a standstill when they exited the metro station. He seemed to just be taking it all in. Ludwig couldn’t exactly tell what the look on his face was trying to convey, but he seemed somewhat impressed by it all. Ludwig turned his eyes onto the expanse and tried to see the bustling avenue for the first time again. It was hard, but he could very well understand that this area of the city was truly a marvel of modern city planning. There was everything in this area of the city. There were apartments, a cinema, restaurants, and shops with just about all one could need. 

“Jesus Christ, man, what a show…” Alfred breathed, seemingly coming to. “I mean, it’s definitely not like, well you know, not like anything West of the wall. It’s its own thing completely. But,” he let out a low whistle, “even this late the place is still bustling.”

And he was right. People still were out, which wasn’t all that surprising. Ludwig did find it somewhat comical that the American expected it to be so different. Maybe they didn’t have the opulence of the West but they weren’t lacking. Not really, he thought. Maybe they couldn’t get the designers from the West and there were certain products that were banned but did that really make this place so otherworldly? 

“Is that surprising?” He asked, tentatively, a smile in his voice. 

“I mean, I guess not?” Alfred ran a hand through his hair and adjusted his glasses awkwardly. “It’s a big city in the end. I don’t know the whole East versus West divide. I mean. Things are different, I’ll tell you that much!” Alfred pointed at the apartments that lined the street. “I mean you’d never see something like this in New York.”

“Explain, please.” Ludwig tilted his head and ushered the American onward, towards his apartment.

Alfred explained, dutifully. The style of the apartments, the monumental amount of planning that went into the city design, the cheeky imitation of Western convenience all wrapped up in a Soviet bow. While listening, Ludwig felt that he likely would never understand the differences that were being pointed out to him. Obviously he could see the differences between the historic reconstructions across the city versus the more Soviet projects that had been created. But he had grown up in this. He’d obviously seen the West, in its mythic glory, on the television and in magazines that had been smuggled across the wall. And while a part of him may have craved to know what it was like to experience all of that dream, he did not connect with the images Alfred was painting of East versus West.

It was simply what was and what he had been told about. Maybe one day there would be reconciliation of the monolithic East and the mythic West. But in this moment, there were only the two of them. And maybe in a way it was that reconciliation--East and West--for the night at least. 

  
  


It was around 1 AM by the time they reached Ludwig’s shoe box of an apartment. It was comfortable, however sparsely decorated. He had a picture of himself and his brother on the wall but beyond that the only real character of the apartment came from the brownish-red floral wallpaper that covered the living room and the kitchen. He did have a small table that sat by the only window in the main room. The two chairs that stood around the table did not match, but he had counted himself as lucky to have two free chairs. There was also a loveseat which had cost him nearly a month’s salary. But he had saved and had purchased a modest, functional loveseat for his place. It wasn’t exactly hulking, but the rust colored couch definitely took up a great deal of the floor space in his apartment. He was proud that it somewhat matched the walls of his place. 

Beyond that, there were three coat hooks that he had hung himself, a small circular mirror by the door, and a radio on an end table next to the couch. He was saving up for rug of some kind, but for the moment he was living with less. Granted, so were most people. 

The kitchen space and the living room were one in the same as they blended into one another. Ludwig’s place had very minimal counter space, but he would frequently use his table as a place to prep food. Not that he was the most industrious cook. But he did try. Attesting to that was the array of spices he kept next to the cooking utensils and sugar dish that sat neatly organized in the limited space. 

On the table he kept a small vase of fresh flowers and on the window sill there was a small pot of vines that his mother had given him when he’d left the army. His eyes landed on the pathetic vines as Alfred drifted through his place, taking in whatever details about the German man that he could from his space. 

“I mean, it gets the job done, huh?” Alfred asked, obviously not entirely impressed with the set up. 

“That it does,” Ludwig turned away from Alfred and strode into the kitchen.

When he returned, Alfred had settled into the couch and Ludwig noticed with some annoyance that Alfred still had his shoes on. After trekking through the dirty streets and alleys… He offered a beer that he had grabbed from the kitchen to him and pointed with a socked foot at Alfred’s shoes.

“Off, please.” 

Alfred took the beer, eyebrows knitting together beneath his glasses. He then stood up, somewhat abruptly. Ludwig stared at him and Alfred stared back. They looked at each other in silence for a few moments. Ludwig was thoroughly confused and pointed again at Alfred’s shoes.

“Please, take off your shoes.” He repeated, trying to be clearer. 

Alfred let out a loud laugh, seeming to be of understanding this time. He nodded, kicked off his shoes, and brought them to the door where Ludwig’s were resting.

“Shit dude, I thought you meant the couch--I didn’t get it at all,” he trailed off laughing before sitting heavily on the couch once again. Ludwig smiled and let out a soft laugh then sat down next to him.

After Ludwig cracked open the two beers the two fell back into stilted conversation. They sat shoulder to shoulder on the small loveseat and discussed their histories. It was becoming clear that there was little else to relate on. They couldn’t talk about pop culture references because most of the media that Ludwig could get from the West was about a year behind and even music was different over in the East. So they bonded over stories of sibling rivalries and their love of cold weather. It was superficial but it was the first time Ludwig had connected to another person over the intimate details of his life. 

Of course he could tell Klaus or someone about his family, but there was always some weight involved when discussing his family. Because in this moment, in conversation with this stranger, he could pretend that the relationship with his family wasn’t so complex. There was no reason for him to delve deeper into the issues and on top of that, he didn’t have the language to describe the thin line he walked between prodigal son and black sheep of the family.

But it was hard to be more black sheep than his rebellious older brother. And in the stories he told Alfred he painted his brother Gilbert as an adventurous spirit with a penchant for fights after school. He left out the part about these fights usually being in defense of his sensitive younger brother. The language barrier left him little room for humor, but he did his best to describe the wiry, fury of fists that was his brother. If he wasn’t fighting physically, he was cutting people down with his words. His ego was unmatched on top of it all.

He was thankful to have Alfred to listen to him as he stumbled through the description of his brother. He felt a small ache in his chest as he dwelled on the past. They hadn’t seen one another in months.

“Wait, he sounds completely awesome--,” Alfred began but Ludwig waved him off.

“ _ My God _ , don’t say that too loud or he will listen to you! His ego,” He paused for a sip of beer, “--already too big.” He laughed.

And before he knew it they had the radio on and there was music filtering through their conversation as Alfred discussed his own family. Or his brother and somewhat estranged father. While Ludwig was interested, he found himself slipping into a melancholic mood. So he kept drinking, trying to grab ahold of the reigns of his emotions. He was prone to feeling melancholic and it would creep up on him if he wasn’t careful.

“So Mattie is up in Montreal at the moment,” Alfred was saying, “and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him happier. He’s living the dream as it is. He’s got this pretty girlfriend--” He kept talking, describing this happy relationship that his brother had with this wonderful woman and Ludwig wondered if the thought made Alfred’s chest hurt like his. 

And maybe it did. Because soon enough, Alfred had quieted down and they were both drinking the end of their beers in silence. After tilting his head back to down the dregs of his beer, Ludwig looked over at the American from the corner of his eye and took him in.

They were almost pressed up against one another and the heat that Alfred was exuding was so pleasant. But he didn’t want to dwell in that for the time being. It was nearly two in the morning and he wasn’t drunk enough to make any kind of move. Call him a prude, but Ludwig was a wallflower unless he knew he wasn’t about to get rejected. Granted, he’d brought Alfred this far hadn’t he? He cleared his throat as those thoughts began to intrude and stood.

“Do you want a thicker drink?” He asked, assuredly.

“Thicker? Like a stout?” 

Ludwig blanched and then realized his mistake. He laughed at himself and jogged into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of Himbeergeist and two glasses. He poured them both a decent shot of the strong, raspberry spirit. It wasn’t something he’d normally break into but it was on hand and would do the trick. Ludwig just wasn’t quite sure what trick he wanted it to do. Maybe magically improve his English? That would be a wonderful sort of drunk, he imagined. 

Alfred took the shot painfully, wincing while making a face and complaining. Ludwig just laughed at him and told him he, “drank like an American”. The two returned to their conversation about family but they found they’d run out of easy conversation topics. And so things turned more morbid. 

“It definitely could be easier, you know? Like I tried being like Mattie when I was first in school. Like, with women and everything. But eventually I just broke up with the poor girl and told her I was trying to get a baseball scholarship to school.” Alfred broke off in a laugh as his eyes stared at something across the room that wasn’t visible to Ludwig. “But yeah, I guess my parents don’t really have any worries so far. I like,” Alfred’s cheeks went a little pink, “I dunno, I didn’t really understand what I was even into until I got over here.”

“I think that this makes sense,” Ludwig nodded to himself and shrugged, “It is not like you have become some, oh what is it?” He paused, “Old maid?”   
“Yeah, I mean--” Alfred laughed, “that’s normally applied to women.” 

“Yes, well. I mean you are so young. There is not much suspicion to have for you, I am thinking.” Ludwig threw an arm up on the back of the couch and eyed Alfred. “How old  _ are _ you?”

“I’m 19!” Alfred puffed up his chest. “And I dunno, my dad keeps writing to me about the German women and it’s just… It’s embarrassing. They expect me to find someone here and get all cozied up with some German lady and bring her home when I go back to class and I finish this whole program. It’s like, they’re just so hopeful I’m gonna meet someone and it’s eating me up, you know?”

Ludwig stared at him. He was so young and so worried about the rest of his life. He already could feel the burden of expectations weighing on him and he already knew that he was not going to be able to meet them. Or maybe he would; maybe he’d just end up like that man Klaus had draped himself over all night. 

Alfred stared right back at him, shifting uneasily. Ludwig, realizing he was being prompted to respond, placed a hand on his shoulder. But he didn’t say anything. There wasn’t much to be said. The light hearted moment of the night seemed to have ended and the melancholy was settling into his bones now. He glanced about at the bottles of beer that were placed on the table and then at Alfred again. He was still watching him. 

After a long pause: “Do you think it’ll ever get better?”

“I hope,” Ludwig responded, letting his hand fall as he sunk deeper into the couch.

“Yeah, you can hope but… Don’t you dream about it? It’s the thing that everyone dreams about--right? Being happy and living life freely? Where you don’t have to be so damn worried all the time. All of us dream about that…”

“I am too young to know what everybody dreams, Alfred.” Ludwig responded simply, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling. “And I do not even know if I am sure what I dream of.”

Alfred stared at him then placed a hand on his chest. That brought Ludwig back to himself. His eyes darted over to look at the American. Alfred was watching him with this burning intensity and he couldn’t help but feel somewhat intimidated by the look. He wasn’t sure if there was going to be an argument or--

Alfred leaned in and kissed him, softly at first. Then hard. It was unexpected and Ludwig had to restrain himself from exclaiming in shock. When Alfred pulled away, Ludwig blurted out in German, “ _ what are you doing _ ?”

“Did you not feel anything?” Alfred stared at him, ever intently. He had shifted his body fully to face Ludwig now and the distance between them felt miniscule.

“Of course I felt something--,” He began. But Alfred cut him off.

“Then I’m going to show you what I’m dreaming about.” 


End file.
